Anguish
by mkilian
Summary: It's twenty years after Christine and the Phantom, Erik, have parted for the last time. Erik is living a lonely life, yet a quiet one. Until one night, when Christine returns to share a startling revelation.


57

**HEY GUYS SO THIS IS MY FIRST PUBLISHED STORY AND I REALLY HOPE YOU ALL LIKE IT! I'M SORRY IT'S SORY OF HEART WRENCHING BUT I PROMISE YOU'LL LOVE IT**!  
**SO THOSE LINES THAT ARE IN BOLD, ARE COMMENTARY FROM MY FRIENDS-THEY LOVED IT ALOT-AND SO MJRSTORM ADDED IN SOME COMMENTARY TO EASE THE HEART BREAK**

He hummed the notes under his breath as he wrote them on the tattered piece of parchment. "Christine, Christine," he huffed but no one heard his angelic voice ring through the underground labyrinth beneath the Paris Opera House, that he called home. His homemade organ screamed cracking notes, that echoed the ones that he had scrawled down in the staff on his parchment. He had been the Opera Ghost for as long as anyone could remember. The genius who once used to be the architect to kings, not sat alone at his breaking organ.

"Get out of my sight," he remembered being only a child, an out cast because of a deformity that he was sadly, born with. His mother, scared that he was a child of the Devil, ignored, and hated him until he eventually ran away out of love for his own mother. He travelled for years with the freak show, being described as only "The Living Death." The Shah of Persia eventually sent for him, recognizing his genius and asked him to draw plans for his new palace.

Shivers ran down his spine, thinking of how he ran. Hiding in different countries, after the Shah wanted him dead so that he would build for no one but himself, until he came to his new home, France. He built this Opera House, and loved it as if it was his own child. He built his shelter in the bowels of the Opera House, as a special playground where no one could find him. Even if they were after him, he knew everywhere he could hide and his chasers would never find him. Simply because it was too vast for anyone not to get lost in, except him.

He remembered his first true love, Christine Daáe. But she was gone now. Married to the man that she loved, Raoul. _That bastard,_ he thought, bringing tears to his eyes. Their stories uncrossed themselves right across from where he was sitting, and he had to look at the place where Raoul almost died, and where he and Christine could have been together forever. But he had let them go, because all he truly wanted was for Christine to be happy, that's how much he loved her. More than he had ever loved anyone, he just didn't know how to tell her. No one had ever loved him, he didn't know what love truly felt like. She didn't even know his real name, Erik. His name that he just picked up, because he didn't know his real name, nor was he ever called anything except for 'The Devil's Child'.

He remembers fleeing after the mob came to find Raoul and Christine in his hideout. He tapped the floor and the trap door opened, as Meg held his cape and his mask fell into her hands. She and her mother, the Giry's, tried to protect him. Madame Giry, knowing the infamous, Phantom of the Opera, since they were children, from her trip to the freak show. They all thought he was dead, except Christine. She had come back to make sure he was alive, the next day after she and Raoul got married.

He wrote for Christine, arias for her to sing. Perfect for a voice that he didn't control anymore. Erik didn't seem to age, for he was her Angel of Music. She listened, and had obeyed every single thing that he told her to do, whether is was singing or not. Until Raoul came and ruined everything. He couldn't shake Raoul from his head. He was the reason that he was still in the gutter, and alone. Loneliness consumed his life, from morning until night, and back again. The Opera House was abandoned, no more operas, no more Christine. He wouldn't even mind hearing Carlotta's nasally, annoying voice right now. As long as he knew someone was in the Opera House again.

"He's here, the Phantom of the Opera." Christine's voice rang in Erik's mind, so loudly that he couldn't tell if he was imagining it or not. "Where is my Angel of Music?" The voice came again, even louder this time. Erik jumped, realizing that he wasn't imagining her this time.

He leaped down from his perch at the organ, and found the white, half mask that he had worn for most of his time as the Opera Ghost. "Christine, Christine," he sang back, sliding the strap over his ink black hair, and straightening out his tuxedo jacket.

Their voices melting perfectly together sang. With Christine singing, "He's here, the Phantom of the Opera," and Erik continuing with, "I'm here, the Phantom of the Opera." She crept around the corner, trying to remember the night he had kidnapped her, and kept her in his hideout.

"Christine," Erik opened his arms as he saw her long dress flow around the corner. It had been close to twenty years after their last meeting, and neither of them looked a day older than when they last encountered each other. A smiled crept across her youthful face, as she embraced him, and the memories came flowing back. Christine's father's death, her coming to stay with the Giry's and dancing here, at the Opera House. How he fell in love with her, the first time he set eyes on her, and how he taught her to sing until everything unraveled and fell apart. "Where's Raoul?" He asked, hoping that she had come alone.

Christine's shoulders went back, and she stood up tall. "I came alone. I had to see you one last time." He could tell that she was aging, even though her face didn't show it.

Concern for her welfare flooded his mind, and body. He still loved her, even after all these years. "Christine, Christine," he sang to her as he led her to his bed, and sat her on the edge of the rotting wooden coffin stuffed full of miscellaneous pillows and blankets he had stolen from the costume closet. She relaxed to his soothing voice, and he put his arm around her shoulders, scared for the news that was to come.

"First, I need to know your real name. I'm pretty sure that you weren't called the 'The Opera Ghost' when you were a baby." If only she knew everything that he dealt with while growing up.

His eyes wandered the forever familiar grey stone, that was covered in dust and mold. "As far as I know, it's Erik. That's just what I've been called for almost my whole life." It was getting cold in the labyrinth, and Christine shivered. He pulled a blanket from the coffin, and placed it, tenderly around her shoulders. He was adjusted to the cold of the winters, because he had lived in that Opera House for such a long time.

She rubbed her arms over the blanket and nodded at him, "Erik, I'm sick. I don't know how much time I have left. But I'm very, very, very… sick. Raoul let me come here alone, because he knows how much I cared for you. No, how much I care for you." She stopped, and looked down at the dirt floor. She spoke as if she were acting, enunciating all of her words, and taking pauses where she felt like she should. Christine took a deep breath, then continued. "You taught me to sing, and that was more than I could ever ask for. When I was young, I thought you had been the Angel of Music that my father had talked so longingly about. Then I changed my mind, that you couldn't have been, but you were. I now know that you were… are my Angel of Music. I'm not scared anymore. I just needed to know that you were okay. Are you okay?" She stood up in the middle of her speech, and Erik just looked at her. He was speechless, he couldn't believe that she actually cared about him. He had always thought that after what Had Happened so long ago, she would have wanted him dead. They sat in silence, with only the sounds of their breaths being audible.

"Christine, I— I do not know what to say. It's been so many years, since we last parted, and you being here now is toying with my heart and my mind." Erik looked away, and towards the wall where the noose that almost hung Raoul was still tied to the gate. The gate that separated him from the rest of the world. Separated him from Christine. "Now that the Opera House is closed, I don't have anyone else to teach. You should be honored that you were my only, ever student." He snickered, and Christine giggled.

"And what a wonderful teacher you were. Without you, I would have been a dancer my whole life. I wouldn't have seen Raoul again, if it weren't for y…" Christine trailed off when she saw Erik's face turn red, at least the side that wasn't covered by his mask.

The Phantom stood up, and walked across the room. Christine had just struck a chord in him that hadn't been struck by anyone for the last twenty years. He put his hands behind is back and paced back and forth before walking up to the organ and singing, "Where in the world have you been hiding? Why haven't you come to see me? It's been twenty years since I last saw you, leaving here with that man." Erik slammed his hands down on the rusting organ, heavy chords hanging in the air. The silence between Christine and he, just making everything more awkward than it was before.

"Erik, I have wanted to come but I was scared. For our story did not end on a good note."

"I wouldn't have cared. I loved you. You were the only one I ever loved. You were the first one to have seen my face, and not fled or screamed. I wrote a whole opera for you." Erik lifted the parchment that he had been working on earlier, and waved it around before realizing that it was fragile. His life's work was dedicated to her, writing operas and music.

Christine, keeping the blanket around her shoulders, stood up and approached the platform the small organ was sitting on. "You tried to kill Raoul. How could I forget that? He was scared that once I came here, I would never return to him," she sighed and turned away from Erik. "And our kids."

"You had… children?" He sounded shocked. But then he realized that she was a woman, married to a man, of course they would have kids.

Christine turned back to face Erik and smiled, "Three of them; Michael, the oldest, Luke and then Marie, our youngest. We had Michael right after I left. He'll be twenty in a few weeks, Luke is seventeen, and Marie is fourteen. They know of you, Erik. They want to meet you, but Raoul won't allow it—"

"Nonsense! They don't want to meet me, the one who tried to hang their father. You're lying to make me come out! Come out of my cave, where I'm safe! Where I'm vulnerable to those, like Raoul, who want me dead!" His temper was getting out of hand. Christine was hurt that after all her trouble of coming to a place that she utterly hated, to see a man that hated the love of her life. The Opera Ghost took a deep breath and continued, "Why come now, when you are sick and dying? Why didn't you wait until you were dead, and leave me unknowing? It would've been easier on all of us, if you had never come here, Christine Daáe." He turned so that she could not see his repulsive face. "I think you should leave. I can't take much more of this heart break, Christine. I'm old too, and any day could be my last. My heart can't take this agony."

Christine gently wrapped a note in the blanket, then set the blanket back in Erik's coffin. "I'm sorry, Erik. I really am… Good bye." She wiped a tear from her eye, as she turned the corner and took the boat across Erik's little lake. He paced around, trying to forget what just happened. _She__'__s gone again, I__'__ve lost her again, _Erik thought as he wiped away his tears.

After at least an hour after she left, Erik had gone back to writing his second opera. He hummed along as his fingers hit the keys, making the song he was writing come alive. "This could only work with a voice I trained, Christine," he thought out loud, but no one or nothing, answered. Only the rats squeaked as they ran around his lair **(you mean batcave)**. He had no one down there, only his piano. Erik remembered the times before when he taught Christine to sing, and she was an unknown dancer. He missed her, and wanted to reverse time and go relive the last twenty years, but with Christine, not without her.

*Flash back* Erik watched her through the mirror, it was not magic, but a false mirror he installed so that he could teach her, without her knowing his true form. Raoul walked in, young and fearless, falling in love with his childhood best friend, Christine, again. Raoul had seen her sing the aria in the second act of _Hannibal_, and remembered her **(you could say the song made him think of her *wink*)**. He left a note in her dressing room, talking about their childhood together, but she did not remember until Raoul entered and asked her about her red scarf, that he ran into the ocean to retrieve for her when they were fourteen. Erik saw Raoul as a threat from the minute he first saw him, so he took the chance. Once Raoul left to fetch his hat to take Christine to dinner, Erik opened the false mirror, and took Christine with him, through the labyrinth to his hideout **(BATCAVE)**. *End Flashback*

That's where everything when downhill, "This is not what I wanted for my life! Right now I'd rather die." Chills ran down his spine, they happened all the time, when he was alone. Erik stood up, and kicked the rotting wood stool, that he was sitting on, over causing the legs to shatter and fly across the floor. The light coming through the small window in the wall, that was level to the streets, was fading. Erik was loosing light, and was surviving on just candle light. He was running out, and when the Opera House was open, he would've asked for candles and they would've left them somewhere for him to find, out of fear.

Everyone was still scared of the Phantom of the Opera. He had not been on the streets since he built the Opera House, almost his whole adult life. But there were people up there, people that Carlotta, or Meg or someone had told the whole population of France about the Opera Ghost and his _obsession_ for Christine Daáe. The youth knew the stories, and tried to break in to find him, but Erik always saw them first and scared them away **with FLAMES AND BLOOD, the only suitable sacrifice for their insolence.**

Christine was the first to not scream, or have a priest come to him and perform an exorcism on him. He thought about when she ripped his mask off, out of pure curiosity of what he hid under the half mask. She was scared at first, but then remembered that it was still Erik underneath the skeletal face, it was still his heart, mind and soul. It was only Christine that wouldn't run and hide from him. And it was Christine that he loved more than anything in the world, or that he knew. Christine had ripped his mask off revealing his true self, the one that he wanted to forget, and she accepted him, even though she was still terrified of what would happen after she took it off.

Erik shakes his head, as if to shake Christine from his mind. He goes back to writing until the candle closest to him disintegrates, and the light flickers out. Erik sighs, takes off his tuxedo pants and jacket but leaves the shirt on, then blows out all the other candles, except for the one in the holder that he leaves by his coffin while sleeps. As he walked towards the splintering coffin, Erik hoped that he doesn't wake up again. That he could just keep sleeping forever, and not have to deal with the pain of Christine coming back, and probably never seeing her again. Erik laid in his coffin, and pulled the blankets up to his chin. Suddenly, as he was about to blow the candle out, he feels something scratching his stomach. He then lifts the blanket to reveal a small piece of paper with ink scrawled on it. Erik pulls it out from underneath the blanket, and hold it up to the light. _My Angel of Music_, he read the front to himself before unfolding the paper and reading the note on the inside.

_Dear The Phantom of the Opera,_

_ You__'__ve probably figured who wrote you this note, so there__'__s no point in me telling you who I am. I came today to tell you that this might have been the last time we__'__ll ever see you. We__'__ve been through so much together, and I__'__m so sorry that our adventures ended this way, but you know what? I love you, Opera Ghost. You ARE my Angel of Music and I have no idea where I__'__d be if I had never met you. I know that I don't know your real name, or what your life before the Opera House was (if was one) and I wish I had been there. Because if people treated you so bad to the point that you feel like you need to hide your face, then I would have loved you, and been there for you._

_ Raoul is__… __a mess now, and I don__'__t know what to do. And our eldest son, Michael is a genius. The smartest in his class, at school, and he composes. Just like you do. He__'__s amazing, too! Michael has written a full opera, and he__'__s in the process of writing another. But, here__'__s the thing__… __he isn__'__t Raoul__'__s child. He__'__s yours. I know, I__'__m sorry I didn__'__t tell you earlier but it was hard for me to even think about it. _

_ I used to be so angry with you, because of Raoul, but I can__'__t handle his drinking any more! He hurts me when he__'__s drunk, and he hurts my children (don__'__t worry, Michael is the only ones that__'__s yours). Listen, we__'__re going to America soon, to see a doctor in New York that might be able to help with my sickness that I told you about. Come meet us there! Raoul can__'__t know that I asked you to come. We met a carny, who runs a show in Coney Island, and he asked me to sing while Raoul, our children, and I are there. You can meet Michael, and we can cheat Raoul a deal, so that he has to leave me and my kids alone. _

_ I really hope you decide to come. The boat for America leaves in four days, at the port in __Les Sables__-__d__'__Olonne__. Michael knows about you, being is father I mean, and would really like to meet you. Please, I love you._

_ Yours Forever,_

_ Christine Da__á__e_


End file.
